


Go and Get Your Hands Dirty

by fur_claws_and_eyeballs



Series: Watch My Enemies Get Destroyed [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Murder Husbands, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Peter Hale, Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Revenge, dark!stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28708227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fur_claws_and_eyeballs/pseuds/fur_claws_and_eyeballs
Summary: Peter glances at Stiles considering which of his barrage of questions he wants answered first. Finally, he settles on their next move. “I assume you have a dump site already picked out?”“Whatever makes you think I have a dump site, Peter?” Stiles teases half-heartedly.
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Watch My Enemies Get Destroyed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104419
Comments: 8
Kudos: 93





	Go and Get Your Hands Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> Direct continuation of "Watch My Enemies Get Destroyed", go back and read that first if you don't want to be confused.

_Tell me what you tryna hide_

_And what you runnin' from inside_

_'Cause I got a surprise_

_We might not make it to the mornin'_

_So go on and tell me now_

_..._

_Do you have enough love in your heart,_

_To go and get your hands dirty?_

* * *

Peter allows Stiles to doze for a while to recoup his strength before finally nudging him awake. Stiles' eyes flutter before opening and catching on Peter’s face. For a moment Peter freezes, worried he’s going to be caught up in that obsidian gaze again, but the eyes that meet his are still back to their natural brown.

Groggy and grumbling, but determined, Stiles picks himself up off the floor and stretches until his back pops. Wrapping up their little party takes less time than Peter would have expected. True to his meticulous nature Stiles has stockpiled everything they need for a quick and easy cleanup. Body bags, latex gloves, peroxide...it’s all stacked neatly in the back of the Jeep sitting just outside the warehouse’s bay doors. Once their cargo is carefully stashed in the back beneath coolers and camping gear they both pause for a moment to gather their thoughts.

Peter glances at Stiles considering which of his barrage of questions he wants answered first. Finally, he settles on their next move. “I assume you have a dump site already picked out?”

“Whatever makes you think I have a dump site, Peter?” Stiles teases half-heartedly.

Peter looks incredibly unimpressed as he answers, “Because you don’t do anything in half measures. You foolish, clever boy.”

Stiles' amused smirk shifts into a self-satisfied grin. It looks stretched thin on his pale face, but it's genuine. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Peter just rolls his eyes with a huff, “Keep your secrets then,” Peter sniffs indignantly, “but I’m driving.” He adds holding his hand out for the keys. He’s almost shocked when Stiles doesn’t even put up a token protest, just unlatches the keys from his belt loop and tosses them over.

“Careful, he-”

“Grinds in second, yes I remember.” Peter cuts him off as he heads for the driver's door. Once they’re both belted into their seats and the old engine is sputtering to life, Peter presses again. “I’m going to need some directions here, mister master planner.”

“You know that old service road that runs just Northeast of Beacon Lake?”

“Yes, I’m familiar with it...” Peter confirms with a nod. Beacon Lake was a popular preserve attraction during the summer months. He remembers ferrying pups to and from birthday parties and summer break get-togethers.

“About five miles out from the lake cabins there’s a network of dirt roads used during hunting season.” He pauses, for a moment as he wiggles down into his seat with a yawn. “It’ll take us about an hour to get to the vacation cabins, I’m gonna rest my eyes for a bit...wake me up before we hit the hunting trails.” And with that, Stiles curls against the door, head wedged into the space between the frame and headrest.

Realizing he’s unlikely to get any further directions until they’ve reached the cabins, Peter shakes his head and carefully pulls out of the gravel lot. He quickly gets his bearings once they reach the main road, and isn’t surprised to find that they’re not far from the old train depot. What was once a bustling warehouse district that stored and distributed everything from military munitions to household cleaning agents, was now a skeletal testament to economic decline. Peter wonders idly if the sheriff had any idea the number of nefarious purposes for which these buildings had been used over the years before memory quickly sobers him. The sheriff was dead. Killed by Argents.

Driving in silence his thoughts turn back to Stiles, and the change that had come over him in that basement. Stiles was clearly wracked by grief. Gaunt and exhausted, it was obvious that he had gone without nearly enough food or sleep for some time. But more than that, Peter had seen him change. It was not a trick of the light, Stiles' eyes had bled completely black with fury, and Peter desperately needed to know _why? How?_ But...Peter supposed, that too would have to wait.

Around an hour later, true to Stiles’ word, they drive past the lake cabins. By this point, Stiles is well and truly snoring in the passenger seat and Peter finds that he’s reluctant to wake him from the sleep he clearly needs. But, with no further directions to go on, his hand is forced.

“Stiles,” he calls to no response, “Stiles wake up!” Peter insists louder. But the young man remains dead to the world. Finally, rolling his eyes, Peter smacks Stiles in the chest none too gently. This seems to do the trick.

Stiles jerks to full attention with an awful sound caught between a snore and a choking gasp. “Hmm? What? What happened? Who's dead?” Finally getting his bearings, Stiles leans forward, scrubbing his hands across his face. Taking stock of their surroundings, he manages with a sleep-rough voice, “The first trail shouldn’t be too far ahead on the right. Skip that trail and the next one, we want to turn onto the third trail.”

“Got it,” As they pass the first dirt road Peter glances over to find Stiles staring intently at his hands. “You alright?” He asks casually, wondering if the day's events are catching up to him.

“Just counting,” Stiles replies distractedly, before placing his hands in his lap and returning his attention to the road.

_Another question to add to the list,_ Peter thinks wryly as he slows to take the turn. It’s getting to be late afternoon, and Peter suspects that the camping gear isn’t just for camouflage. Following a series of seemingly random turns down dirt roads that grow rougher and more overgrown the further they travel, Peter wonders how in the hell Stiles knows where to take them. Finally, the boy tells him to pull off what can still be vaguely considered a road, onto a trail that even Peter’s keen eyes couldn’t discern from a natural gap in the trees. Finally, they can drive no further.

“This is the middle of nowhere.” Peter’s voice is flat, unimpressed, “Why here?” He sees no reason why they needed to take such a meandering route so far out of Beacon Hills when the preserve has sufficed as a dumping ground for so long.

Stiles just twitches his lips, in a brief smile, “You’ll see,” he taunts cryptically. Without another word, he hops out of the Jeep and makes his way to the back hatch. Peter follows suit.

Once again, displaying strength that he shouldn’t possess, Stiles lifts one of the bodies over his shoulder, Gerard by the shape of the bag, and waits for Peter to take the other. Once they’ve settled the bags as comfortably across their shoulders as one can carry the dead weight of an adult body, Stiles begins leading them even further into the forest.

“So…” Peter begins, after a few minutes spent in silence.

Stiles chuckles in response, “I was wondering how long you were gonna be able to hold out. Your curiosity must be chewing on the walls for answers by now, huh?” He’s slightly out of breath from the walk but still carries the body bag with ease.

“I’m honestly at a loss as to where to start,” Peter admits easily. After a moment he asks quietly. “When did your father pass?” There is the smallest hitch is Stiles’ step, but they keep walking without pause.

“About two weeks ago, now.” Stiles starts, “The official report says he was driving drunk on duty and got into a single-vehicle crash.” The words are spoken levelly, but Peter can practically taste the anger simmering behind them. They walk for a few more moments in silence.

“But you knew better…” Peter prompts.

“He wouldn’t _do that_ ,” Stiles practically growls, voice thick with emotion. “Even when he was at his worst, right after mom died, he would _never-_ ” Stiles cuts off, swallowing, “He drank...a lot, but he _never_ drove under the influence. Besides, you know, he finally got his shit together. He’s barely touched the stuff in years, especially after I started telling him the truth about what was going on around Beacon Hills. We-” Stiles stops again, tears threatening to fall, “We were really patching things up. He was coming home more often, we looked through old case files together to look for supernatural causes, things were... _fuck_ , things were finally _good._ ” Stiles grows silent again, breathing deeply. After a few more minutes of blinking away tears he continues, “Anyway, I didn’t believe it for a second, and Jordan helped me look into it. Not like I hadn’t been breaking into evidence and case files on my own for years, but he _did_ help. Mostly I think he was trying to keep me from doing something stupid.”

“Like kidnapping, interrogating, and murdering two people?” Peter cuts in, sarcastically.

In spite of himself, Stiles barks a laugh at that, shaking his head, “Yeah, something like that,” He concedes, flashing a watery grin over his shoulder, “Though technically I only killed one of them...and _technically,_ I kidnapped three people” He adds. Peter just snorts inelegantly. “Anyway...It looks like the hunters set off several incidents around town that had most of the force on call in other places, and when another incident was called in at the preserve, dad went out alone. Somewhere along the way, he was run off the road. Turns out the toxicology report was clean, but with a couple of empty bottles planted in his desk and a few greased palms at the labs...well you get the idea.”

Peter thinks about what he’s just been told and what he knows about the Argents. The hunter family was old and well connected. There were any number of much easier ways to do away with the sheriff. Anything from an accident on the job to old fashioned home invasion, but the bastards had clearly wanted to make a statement. In a small town like Beacon Hills, the news that Sheriff Stilinski’s wreck was a result of drunk driving on the job would get out in spite of his loyal deputies' best efforts. It wasn’t enough for them to just kill the man, they wanted to drag his good name through the mud while they did it. Which brought up the question, “What are you going to do about the official report?”

“Jordan is going to try and get an investigation going into that, see if he can get the truth out in the open to clear dad’s name and get those responsible convicted.”

“And if he can’t?”

Stiles slows to a stop and turns to look fully at Peter. His face has returned to that haunted void expression that he had worn into the basement. Staring Peter in the eyes he states simply, “You already know the answer to that question.” Blinking, he turns abruptly, continuing through the forest. Peter releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, and follows.

**Author's Note:**

> I like that WMEGD can stand on its own as a one-shot, so I'm adding GaGYHD as a series for those brave enough to watch me stumble my way through writing a relationship for the first time! This will be multichapter...I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this...and updates will be frustratingly irregular. Saddle up kids its going to be a rough ride!
> 
> If you see any obvious mistakes feel free to let me know in the comments. I'm also not opposed to constructive criticism, within reason! 
> 
> The title and lyrics at the beginning are from "Dirty" by Grandson, I highly recommend his work!


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